


Murder Kitchen

by DarkmoonSigel



Series: The Notes Played In Between [36]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Crack, Cooking, Cooking Show, Fluff and Crack, Hannibal and Cooking, M/M, Not Beta Read, Will is a cake maker, cooking au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-25
Updated: 2014-04-25
Packaged: 2018-01-20 18:29:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1521068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkmoonSigel/pseuds/DarkmoonSigel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A cooking show AU. Will is suckered in to judge a popular cooking show by Alana. He meets Hannibal there. Stuff happens. Not Beta Read</p>
            </blockquote>





	Murder Kitchen

**Author's Note:**

> I got nothing.   
> Not beta read.

“Why the hell am I here?”

Will Graham, owner of ‘This Is Your Design Cakes’, groaned into his folded arms as he buried his head into them. The motion did nothing to alleviate the threat of a headache or muffle his neighbor’s grating voice. 

Of course, he had been seated next to the food critic from TattleCrumb.com. Will was sure that Crawford had done that intentionally for ratings, the bastard. Which was why there always seemed to be a camera on them. The ongoing feud between the famous cake maker and the current queen of food gossip went viral after Freddie wrote what should have been a business ending review of Will’s little bakery, which had been quite humble but unique at the time for its one of a kind cakes. 

To save his business, Will had given a very public rebuttal with anyone who would give him airtime which had brought in more clients than repulsed, and made his bakery a household name. To the extent of which that Will had to actually hire a staff, too many people drawn in by his apparently ’soulful’ eyes. 

While still unique but not so humble anymore, his bakery was now ran by Beverly Katz, the direct woman making herself his second in command. He’d had very little say in the matter, but she kept everyone in line and on track so he let her modernized and expand the shop. His other employees, Zeller and Price, were fantastic and extremely talented, but tended to get sidetracked if left to their own devices for too long. 

“Will…you promised.” Alana Bloom tried to soothe, Will’s complaint having not gone unnoticed. The lovely dark haired woman sitting on Will’s other side wrote a popular series of cookbooks for a living. She was also the closest thing Will had to a friend if he hadn‘t made it awkward by asking her out. She had declined, citing many good reasons that Will agreed with, but they still talked. They were close enough for her to convince Will into doing a favor for her. “You’re just a guest judge for today. Just fill in for Chilton until he can keep solids down.”

“If he had listened to me about that new sushi place, this could have all been avoided.” Freddie sighed, the feeling of discontent mutual. When Will had stood up to her instead of folding like most chefs did, he had embarrassed her by continuing to succeed. The public shaming had closed quite a few doors for her in the culinary world. 

“Yes, because your word is a shining example of unbiased journalism.” Will said dryly, earning himself a glare from Freddie. “Remind us, how many times have you been successfully sued for slander? If I recall correctly, I think my win made it six.”

“This actually works out great because there is someone I want you to meet.” Alana quietly interrupted, elbowing Will in his side to remind him about the cameras. He tended to lose track of them which if why he refused to sign up with any network for a food show of his own. Will tended to speak without a filter especially when he was lost in the moment of creation. He had a unique way for getting inside people’s heads, but the end result was that he made cakes straight from the imagination of others. His method was a little odd, but his clients adored him even if he was irritable grump who preferred his dogs and solitude to actual people. Brides were even known to schedule their weddings around his waiting list and introverted behavior. 

“That really depend who it is. I feel the need to remind you that I’m not very sociable.” Will grimaced. Being here was bad enough. He had a sneaking suspicion that Alana was about to set him up on a date with some poor unfortunate bastard. 

“You’ll love him. Everyone does. He’s actually competing tonight.” Alana said, looking around as the show’s contestants. ‘Turn and Burn’ was one of the hottest new shows, famous for its speed rounds of cooking. Four chefs were given surprise ingredients and expected to make a meal out of them. Sometimes it worked, a lot of time it didn’t. Those who couldn’t make the cut were voted off until two were left to battle food vs. food for the win. Will wasn’t looking forward to the immanent failures he would have to be trying. 

“You’re judging a contest your friend is competing in?” Will arched a brow at her. “Isn’t that considered cheating?”

“Hardly. His food speaks for itself. It’s just that good.” Alana shrugged, finally seeing who she was looking for. “There he is. The one wearing the three piece suit and tie.”

“You’re friends with Hannibal Lecter?!” Freddie butted in, craning her neck to look at the tall man in the immaculate purple plaid suit. She always had her ear to the ground for a good story, and Alana was beginning to look like her golden ticket back into the big leagues. 

“Who?” Will asked before he could stop himself. Freddie seemed impressed for some reason though, and that was never a good thing. In his humble opinion, Will thought the man’s suit pattern was atrocious, but chalked it up to himself not knowing fashion. He was wearing a flannel shirt and jeans on national television so Will knew that he could hardly call anyone else out on their apparel. 

“What rock have you been living under? That’s Hannibal Lecter, owner of ‘Slice of Life’. It’s only one of the most famous restaurant on the East Coast.” Freddie rolled her eyes, distain dripping off of every word. 

“And if I had time to eat out, maybe I would care.” Will shot back. “Oh wait, I own and operate a world famous bakery. Leaves little free time to mingle.” 

“Ignorance is no excuse. The man is practically a living legend in elite circles. I know people would happily commit murder for a spot at one of his private dinner parties.” Freddie hissed at Will before turning on Alana. “You have to introduce me to him.”

“No need. Your reputation proceeds you, Ms. Lounds.” said a cultured voice too near them. It caused Will to jump in his seat, looking up in surprise at the man leaning in to greet Alana with a friendly nod and some softly spoken words to the ear that made her smile. Envying the man’s ability to do such a thing with such ease and confidence, Will studied the infamous Hannibal Lecter. 

Now that he had a face to put with the name, Will was able to recall little bits of information here and there about the chef. Hannibal owned a restaurant that specialized in the rarified and the beautiful. It was also known that nothing Slice of Life served was vegetarian, the restaurant having a very protein heavy menu. In this era of low carb diets, people flocked to it in droves to dine on meat from fine china decorated with tiny bird skulls and flowers. Some considered meat murder, but it must be delicious because Hannibal Lecter’s business was flourishing, artfully carving up death as gourmet cuisine. 

The restaurant was made even more unique due to its standard of service, but also the etiquette that was expected from its patrons in return. In a lovely renaissance style mural that decorated the lobby of the restaurant, it was clearly stated that rudeness in any form would not be tolerated. Any person who found themselves inclined to do so were promptly told to leave and blacklisted. 

While Will approved of the practice, having tossed a few clients himself out on their ear, he had never heard of a restaurant so intolerant of impolite behavior. It was a hit though, and upon meeting the owner himself, Will could see why. Hannibal wore class like he wore his stupidly perfect, ugly suit. It was a little weird, but it effortlessly worked for him. 

“As does yours. I would love an interview with you.” Freddie smiled up at the stoic man who‘s face could have been carved from stone for all the expression it gave back. Freddie was being so saccharine and fake Will worried he might get cancerous diabetes from his close proximity to her. 

Rolling his eyes, Will settled into the background like he normally did. Given his personality and dressed like he was, it was an easy thing to do so. Most people took one look and dismissed him as hired help, not that Will minded being ignored by annoyingly rude people. Like now, it allowed him to observe Hannibal unnoticed. Alana and Freddie would keep the man’s attention before the start of the show forced him to wander off, hopefully before Alana had a chance to play matchmaker..

“As I said, your reputation proceeds you, and I doubt you would find my craft interesting to write about.” Hannibal said in such a way it could have meant anything. Will almost wanted to applaud, the insult was so eloquently done, and it was an insult. He could read it in Hannibal’s face, even though he masked his distaste for the journalist well. 

“I do find it a shame to ruin food with all that meat, but my writing is versatile.” Freddie said, trying shamelessly to pander to Hannibal’s better nature. From where Will sat, he could see it was being sorely tested. 

“Tasteless.” Will muttered, not expected to be heard or acknowledged.

“Do you have a problem with taste?” were the words that startled Will into looking up to find himself being regarded by Hannibal. The man had some unique eyes set in his keen face, their maroon color rarely seen. It distressed Will that they were on upon him, and that he was memorizing their lovely color. 

“That’s a complicated question.” Will made himself answer, dropping his eyes. His own gaze settling on sharp cheekbones before wandering down lower to wide yet thin lips, well shaped in contour and form. Will wondered how they would feel against his own. “Currently, they are often not tasty.”

“That could have something to do with half the company you keep.” Hannibal said, drawing ire and irate sounds from Freddie. 

“Not by choice. I generally have better things to do with my time, like having a business to run.” Will said, making a mental note to call up the shop to check in on how things were going. He was going to get an earful from Beverly for being such a mother hen, but it would give him an excuse to leave for a couple of minutes. 

“Will is filling in for Chilton.” Alana explained at Hannibal’s faint look of manufactured surprise. Will found himself wondering if the man faked all his emotion. Was it for other people or for himself?

“Ah yes. Poor Frederick, but his loss is our gain. I have been wanting to meet you for a while now. Alana speaks very highly about you when I can get her to speak about you at all. You’re something of a mystery.” Hannibal looked and sounded pleased for some reason though Will couldn’t decide why.

“Not really.” Will said carefully, wondering why Hannibal was so interesting in him at all. 

“I regret to say I have never seen you at my table either.” Hannibal practically purred the words, his accent making them sound like some sort of strange come on. 

“I have simple tastes.” Will shrugged, suddenly at a loss. Was this flirting? Were they flirting? He had no idea. Flirtatious exchanges weren’t his forte to begin with, his past attempt at it sitting at his side as proof A of why he didn‘t date. He certainly didn’t want to crash and burn at it in front of Freddie Lounds of all people. The world didn’t need to know how awkward he could be at any given moment.

“Then I can make you simple things. Sometimes the most basic recipes are the best.” Hannibal took what little Will gave him and made it into a feast like the pro he was. 

“Are you asking me out?” Will asked outright, cutting through all the shadow play and dance of words. He didn’t have time to bullshit around with a guy who seemed like he lived to play head games if his carefully constructed expressions were anything to go by. 

“I am attempting to.” Hannibal said as much with a slight smile at the abruptness, confirming Will’s suspicions about him. 

“I don’t find you that interesting.” Will stated in a flat tone. He ignored the flustered excuses Alana started to make for him, and the outrage sounding from Freddie who would have given the first born she never intended on having for such an invite. On his part though, Hannibal didn’t seem too bothered by the dismissal. If anything, he looked intrigued by Will’s rude evaluation of him. 

“You will.” was all Hannibal said, looking confident and assured as Crawford called out for the contestants to man their stations. The show was about to begin.

OoOoO

Credit to had be given where it was due. Staring down at a dish, the ingredients of which should have never worked, Will could admit to himself that Hannibal was a hell of a cook. The watermelon and feta salad tossed with baby greens, prosciutto, and a light balsamic dressing was proof enough of that, and this was only the starter dish of the first round. 

The chefs had access to their own ingredients, some of the contestants preferring to bring in their own as opposed to using what was provided for them. Hannibal was one of those chefs Will found out, Alana informing him that the prosciutto had been made by Hannibal. A gentlemen as well as a chef, Freddie’s salad had been made without it, though Will would have gladly eaten her portion. The proscuitto was some of the best he had ever had. 

Hannibal’s competition could have learned to do the same, and been better for it. Tobias Budge’s attempt of bananas and curry couscous had fallen flat, and Eldon Stammet’s dish tasted too earthy from all the mushrooms he used, masking the cherries and smoked salmon he had been given to work with.

The last contestant‘s first course, some newcomer who went by the name Franklin Froideveaux, wasn’t even edible. Will wasn’t sure what it was supposed to be or what the man’s original two ingredients had been, the dish was so covered in cheese. Franklin might of done better if he hadn’t spent less time ogling Hannibal and trying to make small talk with the man. 

Will told himself that he was not jealous. The reason he gave Franklin a brutally low score was due to the dish’s poor execution and presentation. It was enough to send Franklin packing after round one. Alana had simply been correct in her assessment that Hannibal’s food could speak well enough for itself. 

Even if Hannibal was a little pretentious in his stupidly flattering suit, the jacket off it now off and his lavender dress shirt sleeves rolled up neatly to the elbows to better show off muscular forearms. And if certain shades of purple were just happening to become Will’s new favorite color, well that was purely coincidence now wasn’t it…

“Will…..are you alright?” Will heard Alana ask as he folded over and groaned into his forearms again. 

OoOoO

The show’s filming was delayed for a short while, Crawford wanting to do some emotional follow up with the chef who had failed to make the next round. Much to Will’s chagrin, Franklin Froideveaux seemed to have disappeared after being voted off by the judges. This whole ordeal was taking longer than he expected. 

To keep himself from doing unfortunate things to Freddie during the extended break, Will walked around the set, looking into pots and pans to amuse himself. He was joined soon enough by Hannibal, the man keeping close to his side. 

“For not finding me interesting, you gave me high scores.” Hannibal said. Will could practically taste the amount of smug coming off the man. 

“Your food is amazing. Your conversational skills, not so much.” Will shot back, making a show of ignoring the chef. 

“Have I done something to offend you?” Hannibal asked, changing tactics entirely with a smoothness Will almost wanted to applaud. 

“No. I just don’t understand why you are paying attention to me when you could do so much better. Hell, Tobias Budge looks like you two go to the same tailor. Go talk to him.” Will said, deigning to look over at Hannibal to study the finer points of his cheekbones. 

“I want to talk to you.” Hannibal inclined his head toward him in an elegant manner that made Will’s back teeth grit together.

“Your loss.” Will shrugged, turning away.

“Why do you make cakes?” Hannibal asked, the question coming from left field. 

“I can make a mean waffle too, not just cakes.” Will smiled. Hannibal wasn’t the only one with secrets. 

“You’re avoiding the question. Why?” Hannibal pressed like a bloodhound picking up a scent. 

“You sound like a psychiatrist. How’s does that make you feel?” Will said as he studied the man’s tie. It made him realize how much he disliked paisley. 

“Saddened.” Hannibal said, his tone and expression carefully crafted to evoke the same meaning as his words. Will appreciated the art of it, though not the attempt at manipulation.

“Crocodile tears. I see you. The real you.” Will wounded, letting Hannibal know he was in on the joke.

“Do you?” Hannibal arched a barely there brow at him. “I think we are more alike than you would like to admit.”

“Yes, and you’re playing a game with me for some reason.” Will countered.

“I like your cakes. Alana has fed them to me on more than one occasion. You have a remarkable talent for them. Very unique flavor…” Hannibal said in a meaningful way. 

“Happiness.” Will interrupted, not liking where this line of conversation was going. He had been so careful. There was no way Hannibal knew his secret. No one’s sense of taste was that good.

“I beg your pardon?” Hannibal blinked. There was a wealth of reaction in that slight movement. 

“You asked me why I make cakes. The answer is because they make people happy. People get stupidly excited about cake, and I like that I can make that happen.” Will said, looking up at the studio’s too bright lights to keep from having to look over at Hannibal.

“Do you feel the need to because you are antisocial or are you antisocial because you feel the need to make other people happy?” Hannibal asked. Will knew whatever answer he gave, it would not be good enough. It would be dissected within an inch of its life. 

“Don’t psychoanalyze me.” Will sighed, losing interest in continuing the conversation any further. His body language said as much, the baker turning away from the chef to start walking back to the judge‘s table. Will didn’t get very far, his hand caught and the man brought to an abrupt halt. 

“I apologize. I am merely curious.” Hannibal said, letting go of Will’s wrist when his grip upon it was glared at. 

“I believe that is the source of all your woes in life. I wish I knew why you were about me.” Will sighed, resisting the urge to touch his wrist, rub the parts Hannibal had touched. 

“You could always agree to have dinner with me and find out.” Hannibal said, looking too assured of himself and Will’s answer. 

“That is a horrible idea…” Will mused. “But win this competition, and I just might. Emphasis on the ‘might‘ part of that. I still don‘t find you all that interesting.”

“Then I will endeavor to change your mind.”

OoOoO

When Hannibal got shrimp and chocolate as his two secret ingredients, Will was sure that their potential date would happen in the timely increments of never. Against all odds though, the dish turned out beyond all expectations. Hannibal was even forced to cook another round of his ‘gamberi al cioccolato’ for the voted off Stammet who begrudgingly admitted on camera that Hannibal deserved his first place standing. 

It was the last thing anyone ever heard from Eldon Stammet. 

OoOoO

“Before you begin, you must all be warned: Nothing here is vegetarian.”

The final round was pitted against Tobias Budge and Hannibal Lecter. The secret ingredients for both were figs and vanilla extract to make a main course out of. Both chefs chose to work with offal, Tobias makes his entrée from chitlins while Hannibal worked with a heart of some kind. 

Stuffed with the figs, apple, and herbs, the heart was served in a spicy vanilla citrus sauce. Will tried not to read too much into the particular choice of organ when he was presented with his portion with a wink from the chef. 

“As per usual, you’ve given us dinner and a show.” Alana said warmly, already digging in before the words of warning had properly left Hannibal‘s mouth.

“Yes, an entire performance. It was really quite impressive. You live up to your reputation.” Freddie cooed, making Will want to gag if the food wasn’t so near divine in taste and texture. 

“You were down to the wire.” Will muttered around a mouthful of flesh so tender it practically melted on his tongue.

“One cannot force a feast. Inspiration must strike, and a feast much present itself.” Hannibal smiled, tolerant of the critique. He knew and Will knew that he was going to win, which meant Hannibal would be looking to claim his prize. 

“It an entrée, not a unicorn.” Will said, knowing he was being an ass, but he couldn’t help his defense mechanism. Fear made him rude. 

“But the feast is life. You put the life in your belly and you live.” Hannibal smiled. Victory was sweet, even if his prize was sulking.

“That’s gruesome. What kind of heart is this?” Freddie said, wrinkling her nose. She was eating the field greens Hannibal had paired with the heart. 

“A well deserving pig.” Hannibal’s smile was slight but wicked enough to make Will choke on his water a bit. 

“Charming.” Will snorted, ignoring Alana‘s look of concern. Will decided that she was definitely not in on the punch line.

“I promise it did not suffer. I employ an ethical butcher.” Hannibal said. Will felt that the man was starting to overplay his hand.

“How is that a thing?” Will grumbled, trying to look very unimpressed. The food was making it hard though, Will wanting to moan as he took in another forkful. 

“What do I taste? Is that oak? Perhaps some wood chips added in with the roasting?” Alana was at least trying to act like a judge. Jack looked like he was about to have an aneurysm from the sidelines about it. 

“I love your palette.” Hannibal told her warmly, making Will’s stomach clench in a painful manner.

“I love this meal. What else do I taste?” Alana said. Will tried to convince himself that she was just being friendly. 

“I will only answer that yes or no.” Hannibal said, crushing little pieces of Will’s soul. He wondered if the two of them had a history together. 

“Get a room.” Will muttered as he pushed his plate away, leaving the rest of the heart untouched. He was pleased to see a little frown cease Hannibal’s face upon noticing the remainder.

“I would rather get one with you.” Hannibal told Will as he pushed the plate back.

“Are you trying to bribe a judge?” Will snapped. He really wanted to eat the rest of that damn heart, his traitorous fingers already reaching for his fork. “Too afraid to do so on your own merits?” 

Of course, I can win this fairly. Otherwise, it would cheapen our relationship. Eat your food, Will.” Hannibal nodded toward the dish, practically looming over Will from across the table to make him. 

“What relationship?” Will sniped back, though he did resume eating.

“Get a room.” Freddie snorted into her salad.

“Ms. Lounds, it would be in your best interests to stay quiet.” Hannibal said at the same time Will snapped, “Shut up, Freddie.”

OoOoO

“I feel bad making you cook on your day off.”

A day later, Will was saying this from inside Hannibal’s impressive Baltimore home, with a full glass of fine red in hand. Keeping Hannibal company while he cooked, Will got a front row seat to art in motion. 

“Please don’t. Cooking is a passion of mine, one I take very seriously.” Hannibal smiled. He was dressed in his version of casual which was still better than most people’s, but Will had to admit he was loving the red sweater on the man.

“I can tell.” Will said as he studied the contents of his wine glass. “So did you really need to kill Tobias? His last dish didn’t taste that bad.”

“It was vile. He’s more than making up for his shortcomings now though.” Hannibal said, making very precise cuts into the dark red meat on his bamboo cutting board. 

“Oh, is that who we are having? I thought Stammat’s was on the menu.” Will shrugged as he leaned in to take a closer look at who was for dinner. It all just looked like meat to him. 

“That fool’s talent, or more accurately lack there of, makes him only worthy as fertilizer. My gardens will appreciate his fare more than a paying customer would.” Hannibal said, seasoning the meat with a flourish of herbs and spices before setting the meat into a roasting pan.

“Ouch. Sensitive, aren’t you? Just because he dared to question your chocolate shrimp?” Will laughed, amused that the vegetables and flowers were people too. 

“Why did Franklin have to die? Did you feel threatened by his affection for me?” Hannibal smirked. He put the roasted pan in the oven, turning back in time to see Will make a face at being found out. 

“I didn’t take you for a chubby chaser.” Will sniffed, feigning indifference. No one would be finding Franklin anytime soon, if ever. 

“How do you make people into cakes?” Hannibal asked. He took his time pouring himself another glass of red. Will continued to be a source of surprise and wonder, the baker smiling coyly back at the chef instead of acting all flustered. Masks were beginning to come off, the monsters underneath peeking out at each other in wonder. 

“Now that’s just rude. Shockingly rude, Dr. Lecter, asking me to give away the method to my madness. I’m not that easy.” Will teased. He was liking where this was going. Things were starting to get exciting, and they hadn’t even had dinner yet. 

“I wouldn’t be interested in you if you were.” Hannibal grinned back a hungry look, all sharp crooked teeth that Will thought were fascinating to look at. 

“I bet it’s been driving you crazy. Trying to figure it out.” Will’s coy smile widening to an all out grin.

“They are just so light and fluffy…” Hannibal sighed, willing to admit just a touch a defeat. He could afford to lose a battle to win the war. 

“What gave away the secret ingredient?” Will asked, unable to resist. He hadn’t gotten caught because he was meticulous. 

“I propose an exchange.” Hannibal said, looking far too pleased for anyone else’s extended life expectancy. 

“Quid pro quo. That only works if you have something I want and vice versa. You already know what I want. What do you want?” Will said, setting down his wine glass to cock a lean hip against the counter. The motion did not go unnoticed or unappreciated.

“You.” Hannibal answered simply, taking a sip of his wine before setting it aside as well. He ended the space between them, resting his hands on Will’s waist to draw the man in close to him. Will came willingly, reaching up his own hands to thread them through ashen locks of hair. 

“I come with seven dogs and I have some issues. Most people think I‘m weird.” Will said with a sweet and easy peace. They were about the same height so it was a simply thing to kiss Hannibal slow and deep, just the way Will had wanted to do upon meeting the man. 

“I promise I am far weirder than you.” Hannibal could kiss, and Will found out that he could kiss as well as he cooked. It made him wonder what else Hannibal could do with that mouth and those talented hands of his. Luckily for him, Hannibal was not only an overachiever, he liked to show off as well. 

“Oh?” 

“It‘s fine to be weird.”

OoOoO

The End

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Your comments are the secret ingredient. Your kudos make them into muffins.


End file.
